


Eternities

by Nessotherly



Series: Realm of the No-Homos [2]
Category: Fitz and the Fool Trilogy - Robin Hobb, Realm of the Elderlings - Robin Hobb
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Because This Is All About Love, Canon Compliant, Did I Already Say Love, Eternity, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Post-Canon, Pure Love, Timey Wimey Stuff, Unconditional Love, absolute love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 16:27:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22159138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nessotherly/pseuds/Nessotherly
Summary: Our colours dimmed and the wolf's eyes gleamed. It was slow and it was sudden, that we were gone and only the wolf remained.So our eternity began.___Or: what happened when they finally became whole.
Relationships: FitzChivalry Farseer/The Fool
Series: Realm of the No-Homos [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590676
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	Eternities

**Author's Note:**

> I just found this fic in my folders. It's weird and sweet. Please have a go at it. (This fandom needs so many more fics istg).

Eternity was surprisingly tiring. 

Days and nights quietly lost all of their relevance - we slept but we didn't need to. We just did, because it felt good and because, for the first time of our lives, urgency was not part of it. 

And time - oh, time was nothing, time didn't count, would never count, ever again. We would sleep, hunt and track. We had tracked our daughter back to safety and walked away - and forgot all the while bathing in the memories of her smile, laughter and scars. 

It was a strange thing, to be three and to be one, to live in the now and in our memories, to sleep, hunt and simultaneously cook and laugh at a small table, to rest under the trees in the dragon garden and walk around my old cabin in which I had lived the most peaceful and lonely years of my life. But that was the place we had chosen - Beloved had grabbed my hand when we stepped in it, and his eyes gleamed with contagious excitement. Nighteyes' tail was wagging and in a matter of seconds, he was lying by the fire and sighing contently. 

Everything was at its right place, and everything felt so foreign and dated, covered in a warm shade of memory colour. That was a thing I had learned in the stone - memory had a colour, the loveliest of them all. Salmon and blue and red and white and green, all at once. 

In the cabin, everything seemed to shine of comfort - it was perfection, and we needed no words to express our happiness. So we settled on a strange routine - we would hunt and cook and eat and laugh and drink and finally sleep. Or maybe we would just sleep, curled up in the bed, hand in hand, fur against cold and warm skin and foreheads touching, for there was no need anymore to pretend we were anything else than one being. 

Sometimes Beloved would cry, but not of sadness - it was overwhelming at times, how happy we were, how eternity and peacefulness could find its way into our veins, rumbling under our skin and sometimes it was just too much. 

So we slept. 

On the first day of our new life, or maybe was it a thousand days, or months, or years later, for time had no consequence or meaning here - Beloved and I were lying on our backs, silent and contemplative, lost in our own thoughts or maybe memories. Nighteyes had gone hunting our meal, or maybe he was just playing with his brothers and sisters or cuddling Kettricken in those ancient, cold winter nights. It was just the two of us, and it was not - for the echo of Nighteyes memories rang clearly in the back of our minds. 

We were still uncovering the meaning of our reunion. We were happy, happier than words could ever describe it, complete at last, one final being after such long years of hurt and separation. And for the first time, I felt like I truly knew my friend - had there ever been a need to know anything about him? He was all he'd had to be, had never showed me less than what he'd ever been, and Eda knew I had been so blind. 

Happiness didn't change our nature though, and we were rational and curious beings. We were chatting in low voices, as if we were afraid the world would hear us, just hiding ourselves a bit more from the rest of the universe in our own personal bubble of love.

Both of our hands were raised in the air, and we would make them bump and gasp as we saw their contours mingling as one flesh and felt a dizzying surge of each other's essence running through our arms. 

"It is strange," Beloved commented quietly, bumping his thumb once more against mine, and suddenly closing his eyes as he felt my energy passing through him like thunder striking a tree. 

"Strange indeed," I replied, unable to hide a groan as I pressed the back of my hand against his again. 'Look - it's not just a feeling. We are actually mingling.'

Beloved giggled as he pressed a finger against my skin, and saw his nail engulfed in small cloud of my own self. 

"I still cannot believe it," he said, and I glanced sideways at him.

His appearance had changed, somehow - he was still the same, but he looked more like my old memory of him, as a young man whose white skin gleamed like pearls - irridescent, that was the word. The same man who had saved me from the mountains, or was he a bit more golden? Maybe? Sometimes his hair looked as white as snow, and sometimes curly and gold in the firelight. But I refused to see him as this beaten beggar I had almost murdered, although I could almost feel the scars on his skin, at times, when dark memories flooded in him, in me, in the wolf. 

We were made as much from pain than happiness, and I had to learn to accept it from now on. I could deal with my own pain - I still flinched at Beloved's. 

"What is it that you cannot believe?" I asked, bringing my hand back to my chest. 

"This. You, me, Nighteyes. Us." he sighed, left his hand fall to the mattress. "I... I still cannot grasp it."

I shifted towards him, my arm bent under my head. "Maybe the answer is to not try."

He looked up at me, his eyes gleaming like those of a dragon, a swirling shade of gold and white. "It's hard." He glanced at my other hand resting against my thigh, and poked it. We both exhaled slowly at the sweet spark of the contact. He hesitated, then held it and slowly entwined our fingers. The feeling was intoxicating and right, almost unbearable, but it was also unthinkable to try to break it. "It's like we... we finally share no limits."

I felt something tightening in my chest and tried to chase it away, the memories those words brought back, the anger, the confusion and the fear. Shame crawled in my belly, and I tried to breathe trough it. Accept it, I told myself. Learn from his pain, embrace it. 

"I guess that's the point," I shrugged, smiling teasingly. 'Death and dragons, that eternal togetherness.'

His smile did not reach his eyes - he seemed lost in thought.

Somewhere around us, a twig fell from a tree, not far from our resting place. We raised our head sleepily, blinking confusingly at the garden, then closed our eyes and went back to our slumber. 

"What is troubling you?" I asked then, my voice barely a whisper. I could guess it, almost taste it - and I feared it. One last wall to cross, one last memory to sort out. 

He looked up at me, and I saw apprehension in his eyes - a turmoil of emotions that reddened his cheeks and parted his lips in order to gasp for air. 

"Why --" he started, and stopped, closed his eyes and brought a hand to cover his eyes. "I don't know."

"Tell me."

"Why - why didn't you ask me to--"

He couldn't go on, but in this place, words were almost as irrelevant as anything else. 

"Why didn't I ask you to carve the dragon with me?" I said, and I saw him breathing heavily as the words were out there. I could smell the fear emanating from him. I didn't want him to be afraid, ever again. Swift anger ran through my body and I leaned over him to embrace him in my arms, keep the danger and whatever sadness he could feel at bay. 

Gasps again as our skin melted into one another. _Pack_ , Nighteyes approved. _Pack,_ both Beloved and I agreed, and I slid my hand under his head to hold it against my chest. 

"You know why." I murmured against his forehead. 

"I don't - I don't want it to be the reason." He was shaking under me and I tried to soothe him, rock him slowly from left to right, and again, and again. "Oh, my love, I regret so much to have put you through all of this. I am so sorry."

"I never resented you for any of this," _My love_ rang in my ears, as sweet as honey and ginger cakes. 

Or did I? 

"You did," he echoed my thoughts. I closed my eyes, breathed him in - nothing, as scentless as he'd ever been. What a comfort. 

"I did."

I heard a small sob. 

"I was afraid you'd say no - I -- I would've rather gone into the wolf alone, incomplete, than to add another rejection to my collection. Yours. I would have stopped - died, eaten by the maggots. I--" I stopped, breathed. No, I couldn't. "I'm sorry." I was a coward - but that, I couldn't bring myself to say it. 

What did it matter? Words where nothing, here - only thoughts. He'd always known.

My shirt was wet from his silent tears. I felt his arms rounding my chest, tight. 

"I never wanted to leave you. Ever." Tears in his voice. I didn't want him to hurt. "It tore me apart every single time. I wish I'd never left you. If I could go back -"

"It doesn't matter now." Oh, I was crying too. What a maelstrom of emotions. That was all this place, this reality was. Emotions, tears and laughter and screams of pain, as overwhelming as the Skill current. How did we manage to stay afloat? _Habit_ , Nighteyes whispered. 

"You should've asked me." Beloved said. 

"I'm sorry."

"I thought you didn't want me, I thought --"

"Of course I wanted you. Why wouldn't I want you? I've always -" Words, words again. But he could feel the truth of my silence. Thoughts bore more strength in this strange place. _I've always loved you, and you know that._

_No, I didn't know that._ _I don't_ know _that. How could I?_

_How could you not know it?_

"I never - you wouldn't." Words, again. He stumbled on them - his dread resonated in me, from skin to skin to my core. Unbearable. 

"Wouldn't what?"

I felt him take in a shaky breath. " _Love_ me."

I straightened, letting go of him to search for his face, trying to lock his eyes in mine. He wouldn't look at me - I rested my palm against his cheek and lifted his face slowly. 

"Look at me."

He did, reluctantly. 

"I _love_ you." I said, clearly, loudly, pensively, devoid of fear. Almost triumphantly. "You _know_ it. Look around you. Look at this place, these memories. This is all _us_ , and you know me more now than anyone ever has, and I know you the same way. I love you, please, Beloved, don't doubt me. Ever again. I _love_ you. I do."

His eyes were red from the tears - I tried to fight off the memory of bloody eyes and darkness. I blocked his pain. Not now. Only him, and me, us both, and lovely memories. He was shaking too much, and I pressed my lips against his forehead. _I love you._ He gasped as the mingling spark went through our bodies - sudden pleasure I could hardly bear. I kissed the soft skin over his left eye. _I love you._ Right eye. _I love you._

_I love you_ , he thought back, and I struggled for air as the strength of his love engulfed me when the tip of his silvered fingers brushed my cheek, his thumb caressing my lower lip. Tears were still building in his eyes, stuck on his white eyelashes. Black pupils dilated. My heart was beating in my throat as I thought -- why not? He was me, and I was him, mine, his, all the same, what could anything else matter? 

The pressure of my kisses, tingling on my lips, the pulsating, agonising call of pleasure from his finger tips was deafening, and finally, we surrendered. 

_I love you._

_I love you._

We both went for each other, hands grabbing whatever skin was given from the other, and suddenly, it was difficult to confirm where I started and where he ended, where our touch began -- for it felt like it was everywhere. Our lips tumbled on each other's, frozen at first, for interminable seconds where realisation, then pleasure hit us as a symphony of sensations and old memories of brandy, songs and teasing laughter exploded in our minds. Birds sang in the forest, and a colourful raven was nesting against our paws. It was quiet and noisy at the same time - I chose to focus on the silence: his erratic breathing, the rustling of the sheets around our bodies, and the pressure of his cold lips against mine. 

_I love you_.

Thoughts which we could not define as his or mine. It was ours. I stroked the back of his neck as he licked so shyly my lower lip, sending waves of pleasure and anticipation though my whole body. _He wants me!_ I licked him back, nuzzling at his nose, then cheek, to press him for more, to give him courage. More of this strange touch, of that irrepressible pleasure and he moaned as he gave way to more, always more of him. The kiss was a real delicacy, and it deserved to not be rushed - slowly, I kissed him, tracked the length of his chin with my thumb, down his throat and smiled as I felt goosebumps rising on his skin. 

_Ah, finally,_ the Wolf sighed, and I managed to push him out of our thoughts. Not now. _Hunt and play, but leave this to us_ \- and here rang the memory of his young days, invasive of my privacy until I'd taught him a few limits to our bond. _There are no limits here_ , Nighteyes reminded me. _Well, just pretend there are._ The wolf laughed and went back to his occupations. 

"Let me breathe," Beloved urged me, but I chuckled and kept on kissing him. There was no need for breathing in this place. His pulse was beating rapidly against the tip of my fingers, always faster, and mine probably was just the same. I deepened the kiss, licking at his tongue and he shyly retracted from me - and he came back with a newfound courage, until finally giving in as it all became more erratic, sliding our bodies against each other, finding new positions for comfort and refusing, probably for an eternity, to get away from the other. His hands grasped at my hair, pulling at it, or maybe forcing me closer, as if he wanted us to mingle once more as a single being. My head was pounding from the ecstatic pleasure of our touch, and my skin burned from desire, so much that I almost took him there, with no warning, a low grumbling on the back of my throat that made his body shiver under me. No. I parted from his lips and took in a long breath, but Beloved was having none of it and covered my neck in cold kisses, drawing up his tongue to my earlobe and biting it ever so gently. Oh, how the hotness of his tongue contrasted with the chilly touch of his skin. I couldn't stop a moan, and another as one of his hands slid under my shirt to have his nails graze against my skin. Barely there, and clearly not enough as my back ached and arched to mingle with his hand. 

"You are so beautiful," I felt him whisper against my ear - joy curled up in my belly. _No, you are_ , I thought, and something like a startled laugh rose from his throat. I kissed him again, welcomed by the melting of his body against mine. 

I was surprised at how right it felt - of my own desire that I had stifled as only possessiveness over his friendship, of my own claim over his personalities, as if it were only up to me to know him and no one else. But it had been, could be so much more, an eternity of ecstasy through his touch; what reason would I have to diminish my love for him as society's standards had expected me to? They held no meaning there. Nothing did, except for us. 

I felt shy, all of a sudden; I took a break from his mouth and hid my face in his neck, breathing slowly to calm my body. It was no use. If we touched, it was madness, and I had no will to stop it now. He cradled me in his arms, running his fingers in my hair, massaging my scalp. He guided me to my back and put half of his weight over me, still holding me close to his heart. 

"I still cannot believe it," I managed to whisper - my voice was full of tears, and he hummed his understanding. "I cannot believe I have you."

"You will always have me now. I am not going anywhere."

He kissed me gently, still trembling a little. I returned it gratefully, and we kissed for a while, almost lazily as tears ran to the corners of our mouths. It was all too much here, too much comfort and memories for tears to stay at bay. We caressed each other's bodies with a tenderness that had been achingly missing from our lives, our faces and necks and arms, all sensitive spots from which quiet gasps came to mingle in our kisses. 

I don't know how long we held each other like this, but we managed to find a small ground of sanity, of control where the echo of our personalities didn't take over our consciousness, and the kiss turned into a game of cat and mice. He played me, giving me the most delightful kiss only to retract and leave me panting for more, and denying my wishes, an almost sadist smile on his lips. I cursed and turned him on his back, kissing him angrily, as if to forbid him to tease me so another time. But he did, so I did too, and we both ended laughing in between kisses, breathless, impossibly happy and madly in love. 

* * *

"Do you think we'll ever fight?"

The sun was setting over the hills, hot but not too much as it finally gave way to the evening. We were sitting on the porch of the cabin - Beloved was resting his head against my shoulder while I fondled his right hand in my own. A weight that had seemed to weigh in my chest for decades had finally lifted, and it was as if I had to learn how to breathe anew. 

I considered his question, then tried to grasp the whole weight of an eternity together - and I couldn't help a grin. 

"Oh, yes."

_Definitely_. Nighteyes ran across the garden - he had spotted something by the edge of the forest and I suspected his excitement to be most likely directed at a porcupine. 

"We would probably bore ourselves to death otherwise." he said, nestling his head more comfortably against my neck. 

_I am not sure that’s how this all works._

_"_ Me neither."

It was a porcupine. We cheered Nighteyes as we felt him kill his prey, and laughed at him when he came back with his nose covered in spikes. Time had come to go back inside, to cook and eat and laugh - but the daylight was lingering, and as Nighteyes settled for a long night of sleep by the fire, the Fool and I went for a walk on the hill. 

There was a soft and refreshing breeze that came to rustle the trees and our hair, and all around us, the colours had something of an emotional undertone. Everything seemed to be made out of a pinkish shade: the trees, the grass and the sun.

At the top of the furthest hill - before the memory faded into a blur we could not remember precisely - we came to a stop and sat on the grass, hands linked and savouring the bliss that came from each other's touch. 

"Does it count as cheating?" Beloved asked. 

"How do you mean?"

"Cheating death. Again."

I chuckled. "Are you surprised?"

He smiled, leaning on an elbow and glancing up at me with the utmost tenderness. "You never cease to surprise me."

_Changer_ , Nighteyes approved. I bent down for a kiss, and he replied with a small hum of contentment, sliding his hands in my hair and holding me down for a long, long time. 

We did fight - a lot. Sometimes, we did it on purpose, for the simpleness of our new reality needed the harshness of what we had once known. And at other times, we would go back to older memories, to quarrels none of us had really healed from, and discussed the whys and the hows, fought and cried and finally apologised with kisses and breathless sorrys. 

There came a time we finally could look back at those times with fondness, at that agonising pain we'd both felt from each other's rejections. That time he'd told me he loved me, and that time I didn't. That time I'd told him I loved him, and he pretended he didn't. The manipulation, the strings he'd pulled and the ones I'd broken - we learned to embrace it all. 

* * *

Bee came to visit sometimes - we would blink up at her and stir as she cleaned us up from thebird nests, the moss and the leaves. Oh, how she had grown. She looked just like us; she was tall and slender like Beloved, and as blonde as he had once been in that tent in the moutains. But she also had the Farseer strong features and Molly's smile. 

Our heart broke to see her so grown up in her gown, the beauty of her curls and the sadness in her eyes. 

"I miss you so much," she'd say.

_We miss you too_ , we replied, but it wasn't enough, so we cuddled with her for hours until she had to leave. She said she'd come back, she'd be there more often now, that she was sorry but she couldn't before. 

And she did; she came once every two moons, and every time, she had new tales to share with us - how everyone was doing, who had died and who had left. The day she announced Kettricken's death, the wolf in us howled in pain and searched in the Skill for the presence of his queen. He couldn't find it - only a vague echo of her Wit, buried beneath the earth, reaching for us. Bee told us how she had wished to visit us one last time throughout her entire illness - and she was supposed to come. An expedition had been organised, and Bee said that she believed that had been probably enough for her, for she died in her sleep the night before the departure, smiling. 

Decades passed, we think - but Bee didn't age. Her hair changed, and sometimes the colour of her skin - whiter and whiter, until she disappeared for a long, long time. 

That was it, we thought, and we mourned her with such deep sorrow we couldn't find the strength to move from Verity's side. We could feel him reaching for us, sharing his sympathy and love. But it wasn't enough - fathers should not have to outlive their daughters. 

So we pretended we were dead, that we had been for a long time. 

Beloved and I curled up in the memory of her old bed while Nighteyes shared his warmth at our feet. We didn't move, didn't have the strength to move. 

And finally, she came back - as we awoke from our slumber, we could feel a _shift_ , a little something different in the world, in the way things ought to be, a weakness that called for nothing else but dread. 

Something was wrong with the Skill. 

The earth shook as she sat before us. We had almost forgotten how to move and it took us a few minutes to manage to look up at her and finally learn on the hand she was petting us with. 

She was not alone - she had never been alone before, but her company always managed to remain afar, watching for her safety at a distance. A man was sitting next to her - he wasn't young nor old, maybe in his forties or fifties, yet we suspected it was much, much more.

"Do you remember me?" he said, reaching for our nose with the back of his hand so we could smell him. 

Per! We did recognise him! We welcomed him with kisses and wolf hugs while he gave us delicious belly rugs. How much he had grown!

So what did it make of Bee, who still looked like a teenager? Her skin was tanned, almost golden, and her resemblance with Beloved almost made us uneasy. 

“Da,” she said. A single word, but we understood it all — felt the tides shifting at this mere summon, snowflakes turning into avalanches and sunken cities long forgotten rising from the depths of the ocean. “Da — We need you. Please, come back.” 

A single touch of her hand, light yet murderous in the strength of her skill. 

She willed us back, as witted and skilled as ever — more than anything we’d ever thought possible. 

So we did. 


End file.
